


Red, I Love You

by Destiel101



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Drunk confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, emotionally constipated cowboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel101/pseuds/Destiel101
Summary: Arthur's in love with Charles but won't tell him. Too bad drunk Arthur doesn't get the memo.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Red, I Love You

Charles Smith

The man drives him absolutely insane in the best way possible. 

Ever since their hunting trip in Colter there’s been a budding friendship. Steadily growing, blooming into something beautiful. 

Arthur used any excuse to spend time with the man. Going hunting together, sitting with him making arrows or carving. Sitting next to him at the campfire, knees almost brushing. 

When they weren’t together Charles was still surrounding him. In his mind, everywhere he looked. Something Charles had made him, the bow and arrows, a little carving of a stag. His journal, filled with notes, reminders to tell Charles about that plant or animal he saw. Drawings of the man. Some small, quick sketches. Others detailed, hours spent perfecting all the lines and curves in the man’s face. Making sure to get his scars right, his hair framing his face almost like a halo.

He had it bad. 

He knew what it was. He had spent too many years of his life coming to terms with that part of him, it didn’t even surprise him when he found himself attracted to the man. Charles was a tree and he wanted to climb it. Sturdy, thick, muscles bulging under his shirt. Thighs straining in his jeans, Arthur wants nothing more than to get his hands on them.

But he ignored the thoughts, harshly pushing them aside. He was friends with Charles. Just barely at that point, he was not ruining it. He didn’t even know Charles well enough to know if he was into men or not. 

It would pass if he was lucky. If not, maybe they would become good enough friends that he could joke about it someday. It was when Arthur was sketching Charles brushing Taima, making sure to get all the angles right that he realized what had happened.

Love.

When exactly it had turned from just lust into love was hard to pinpoint. At some point, their friendship had turned into something more for Arthur. An escape from the droll of everyday life. A rare genuine smile, an even rarer laugh, a sense of ease he felt with no one else. A trust he hadn’t had in so long. Freedom to be him and no one else. No Arthur Morgan. No enforcer, attack dog, workhorse, outlaw. Just, Arthur.

Charles didn’t expect anything from him other than what he really was and seemed to enjoy that company. A relaxation in the man’s shoulders he never sees elsewhere.

It was no secret around camp that he and Charles had become good friends. Some were surprised that Arthur had managed to pass the walls of Charles, they were opposites to the camp. Arthur was loud, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Charles was quiet, staying in the background. What they didn’t realize was Arthur was just as quiet as Charles. He enjoyed just sitting with the man. Each absorbed in their own task, merely near each other for the company. No words were needed between them. 

The only one giving him knowing looks was Hosea. He wasn’t surprised, that man knew him better than anyone. He seemed to know exactly what was going on. Catching the looks Arthur would send Charles’ way, the touch that would linger a moment too long. He tried to deny it but Hosea knew, there was no point. They were empty words anyhow, Arthur giving up halfway through his denial. He was urged to tell Charles, promised his looks were returned. That Charles was hiding the same feelings he was.

Arthur laughed at that. There was no way. They became friends, yes but there was nothing appealing about him. He was like sandpaper, rough and course. Grinding at people until they had enough. He thought little of himself if he did think at all. He wasn’t good-looking, covered in scars and blemishes. He wasn’t a good man; he knew that and he doubted it would change. He couldn’t be loved. People had tried before, and all he had to show was a broken heart. He couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t taint the pureness that was Charles.

Charles was everything he wasn’t. Everything the man did had a purpose. Kindness came easily to him; he didn’t need to try. He was smart, in the way Arthur could only pretend to be. He was gentle, something Arthur wasn’t sure he could ever be. When he spoke it was precise and to the point. Every word held meaning; no breath was wasted. He didn’t anger at thrown words or insults, feigning nonchalance. Whether it was true or an act it was still admirable. 

The man could recite the alphabet to him and his breath would be taken away. His voice deep, flowing like smooth chocolate. His ears devoured every sound the man would make, longing for more. His eyes would automatically follow his every move. Watch his arms as he chopped wood, his legs as he bent to lift a bale of hay. The calmness in his features when he pulled his bow back to aim. 

It didn’t matter what he did he was perfection on Earth. 

Arthur could never compare. 

His plan was to stay friends with Charles, never letting the other know of the thoughts in his head, the drawings in his journal, the feelings in his chest whenever they are near. 

Unfortunately drunk him never listened.

He can’t even remember how much he’s had, joining in on the drinking early in the evening. They were celebrating Sean’s return. They had all been given thanks, Javier and Josiah enjoying the attention. Arthur politely taking the thanks and ducking away, drink in hand. Charles nodding his response and disappearing. 

Buzzed enough to loosen his tongue but still able to walk in a straight-line Arthur goes looking for Charles. He finds Lenny on guard duty, the kid happy at Sean’s return but not wanting to be hungover the next day. When asked Lenny tells him Charles is not too far from the horses, a small spot in the trees. A fallen log they’ve sat against before, just far enough away from the camp for a little bit of privacy. 

Arthur practically falls on his ass next to Charles. He turns to the man, a familiar feeling in his chest. The want to be closer, to lean on him, to pull him into his arms, to kiss him until they can’t breathe. 

He ignores it, smiling drunkenly at Charles. The man had an amused look on his face. “Get tired of the party already?” Arthur chuckles, “Nah, I couldn’t find the right company.” One of Charles’ eyebrows barely raises, only noticeable if you really know him. “Oh?”

Arthur nods, more of a whole-body movement than a nod, “Yeah.” He doesn’t say more, their gazes meeting. They break out into chuckles at some unspoken joke between them. A comfortable silence falls between them, the sounds of the night all around them. The crickets in the grass, the owls in the distance. Nocturnal animals scurrying through the underbrush, the party in the distance. The horses nearby snorting and braying. It was serene. 

Arthur is loathed to break it, but his drunken mind is whirring. He has always been an honest drunk, a talkative one. Spilling out secrets and feelings he could barely think about while sober. He looks up to the stars, “Hey Charles?”

He hears a hum from beside him, confirmation the man is listening. He doesn’t let his gaze move from the sky. “We’re friends right?” There’s silence beside him, he can almost hear Charles’ confusion. He tries to clarify, “I mean, I know we are. But like, are we good friends? Like good enough that it wouldn’t change?” He finally manages to look at the man beside him.

Once again, his breath is punched out of his chest, even with his brow pinched in confusion and slight worry Charles is a sight to behold. Arthur is so busy studying his face he almost misses Charles' response, “Of course.” He feels relief and can’t stop the next words tumbling from his lips, “You’re beautiful.”

Charles’ brow furrows more in confusion, one eyebrow fully raising. Definitely not expecting that. Any other time Arthur would be patting himself on the back for managing to surprise the man, to actually get a reaction from him. Instead, he can’t stop the verbal waterfall from gushing forth, “I mean in every sense. You’re a beautiful man. Your face and your muscles. You’re like a marble statue. No matter what you do it’s beautiful.” Charles’ eyebrows are both raised now, confusion gone and replaced by surprise. Arthur continues his drunken rambling.

“You’re also a beautiful person. Your voice, your mind, your heart. You don’t have to think to be good, ya just are. Everythin’ you do has meaning, nothin’ is wasted. You’re so smart and kind and- “Arthur stumbles over his words, his gaze moving from Charles to his own hands in his lap.

“And I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. ‘Bout how I feel ‘round you. Like I don’t have to pretend, don’t have to be no one but myself. You like me for me even if my ugly ass ain’t much. You always see the best in me. I find myself drawn to you; my thoughts surround you. I can’t even put into words what you do to me. How you make me feel. How grateful I am that you even exist.” 

He risks a glance at Charles, the man looking gobsmacked, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. An expression Arthur never thought he’d see on the usually stoic hunter. Arthur gives him a sad smile, he knows he’ll regret this in the morning, knows Charles may hate him for it, even with his guarantee of friendship. But he’s gone this far, might as well hammer the nail the rest of the way in. “I think, I think I love you.”

Charles blinks slowly at him, no words come forth and Arthur is grateful. He doesn’t think drunk him would take rejection well. He mumbles a good night and retreats quickly before Charles can even gather his thoughts. 

He stumbles to his lean-to, falling ungracefully onto his cot. A certain weight lifted from his shoulders; he knows it’ll be replaced by another soon enough. But he’s passed out before it comes.

Waking up isn’t fun. He drank enough to get a hangover, but luckily not a severe one. Feeling groggy and suffering a headache he drags himself from bed to freshen up. Most of the camp is still asleep, or more aptly, passed out. Those few who didn’t drink the night away are awake, coffee brewing. Arthur sends a silent thank you to whoever put it on. 

After a few cups of coffee and some splashes of water to the face, he’s feeling human again. He sits in front of the fire, slowly eating a can of peaches. He walks through the night before, trying to remember what he did and if he has to apologize to anyone. He nearly drops the can when he remembers. 

Charles. 

Oh no. He did not. 

Oh, but he knows he did. He told Charles everything, everything he had kept carefully locked away for months. He almost groans at his stupidity. He doubts their friendship was good enough for that. He mourns the loss already, not looking forward to the cold shoulder he’s going to get from the man. 

He sighs as he finishes the can, deciding a walk would do him good. He picks a direction and moves, winding through trees and stepping around boulders. He lets his thoughts go, watches the squirrels scurry in the trees. Hears the birds chirping around him, the distant sound of a woodpecker. He walks until the camp disappears until he can’t hear its noises. He studies the plants beneath his feet, naming the trees he finds himself surrounded by.

He is brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps, he turns quickly, hand on his gun before he thinks. He is surprised to find Charles behind him. He curses the man for his skills, he didn’t even know he was being followed. He relaxes his stance, studying the man in front of him. Trying to get a reading off him, futile as it is. 

Arthur looks away in embarrassment, the same feeling fills his chest, accompanied by a new one. Regret he thinks. Charles approaches him slowly, coming to stand only a foot away. The silence is uncomfortable for once, Arthur unsure what is going to happen. Charles’ voice is still like music to him when he breaks the silence, “How are you?” 

His words are soft, caring. No trace of anger or disgust. Arthur looks up at the genuine question, shrugging slightly, “Been worse.” Charles nods in response, “You remember last night?” Arthur snorts, “You mean do I remember when I embarrassed myself by spilling my every thought and feeling to ya?” Charles nods again. It’s silent for a moment more. “Did you mean it?” 

Did he mean it? Of course, he meant it. Every word. The real question is does he tell Charles that? Or does he deny it? Blame it on one too many drinks? 

His shoulders sag, head lowering in maybe shame or embarrassment. He can’t bring himself to lie to Charles. His response is quiet but there, “Yeah.” He pokes a small rock with the toe of his boot, feeling very much like a kid about to be scolded. He hears Charles step closer, sees the man’s boots enter his vision.

A finger is hooked under his chin, his head raised to meet the one in front of his. Charles no longer hiding behind a mask, his face open, happy, relieved. A look of endearment as his eyes rake over Arthur’s face. His lips quirk into a small smirk, “Good because I love you too.”

Arthur swears his heart stops, chest aching with the feelings bursting within. His knees suddenly weak, his head in the clouds, soaring above anything akin to rational thought. He can only mirror Charles’ surprised look from the night before. He can’t form words so he uses his actions. He grabs the front of Charles’ shirt, pulling him forward to crash their lips together. 

He’s spent many nights envisioning what kissing Charles would be like. The feel, the taste. But nothing compared to reality. The taste of tobacco and coffee fills his senses with the smell of wood and pine. So uniquely Charles. The finger under his chin turns into a hand on his cheek, cupping it with a gentleness you wouldn’t think Charles capable of. Arthur’s other hand rests on Charles’ hip. Charles’ free hand making its way up Arthur’s back, bringing them closer. 

It was nothing but them at that moment. No trees, no animals, no camp in the distance. No fear of broken friendships. Just them, their tongues colliding. Their moans and groans spurring each other on. 

They part unwillingly, their breathes mingling as they pant from the unexpected make-out session.

They don’t separate, just holding each other close. Their foreheads rest together as they regain their bearings. Their gaze once again speaks more than works, chuckles breaking between them as they realize. They had both hidden their feelings, not believing the other would feel the same. They were a pair of fools. 

Charles smiles, a real smile that sets Arthur’s heart wild, “How about a hunting trip?” Arthur lets go of Charles’s shirt, instead, winding it in the long hair he’s longed to run his fingers through. He can already feel heat pooling in his gut at the thought of being alone with Charles. He kisses him again, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of. “Meet you by the horses.”


End file.
